99 Souls Page 7

  “What if an animal came out of nowhere while you were distracted?” he’d asked her once when she was driving them from St. Ives Elementary to Moe’s to grab lunch. He’d been prompted to say something when she glanced at her phone to read a text message. It had been September, if she remembered right. The leaves had just started to turn. At least, that’s how they looked in memory. “It can happen just like that. Or, God forbid, a kid. That can turn your life upside down in a hurry.”

  She’d imagined that faceless kid as Brandon—charging out into the road, only to be frozen with fear at the sight of an oncoming car and subsequently killed—which in turn brought to mind a very real accident that... that she wasn’t going to think about then.

  “What do you mean by ‘happened back there’?” he said. “The police didn’t see me.”

  “They saw your car.”

  She could tell from the look on his face that Jim understood what she meant. They got your license plate. He pounded the steering wheel, then ran his fingers through his hair, gripping and pulling as he did so.

  It was the first time since she’d known him that Sarah could recall seeing his mood shift more than a few degrees off center. Nonetheless, she had to drive her point home. “If we go back now, they’ll arrest both of us.”

  FOR QUITE A WHILE, JIM DROVE Atlanta’s serpentine roads aimlessly, quietly fuming, taking them from the six lanes on Piemont Road to the four of Pharr Road to the two of Andrews Drive. As the lanes decreased, so did the size of the businesses on either side of the road. Here on Andrews, the office buildings and strip malls had given way completely to quiet, sleepy houses. Likewise, the few cars they encountered dwindled to almost nothing. Then, in a way that seemed to Sarah both expected and sudden, they were on Northside Parkway, another thoroughfare, and once again surrounded by darkened office buildings and lighted convenience stores. Then they were on West Paces Ferry Road, and there were more houses—these, which included the governor’s mansion, more expansive than those on Andrews.

  The radio was off. The silence between them felt cavernous. But what else could she expect after turning him into a wanted man? After a while, she couldn’t stand it any longer. Sarah cracked her window to let the sound of the wind in. It whooshed around the car, eating up that silence and, at least as far as she could tell, diffusing the tension.

  Just as they were passing in front of the governor’s mansion, it occurred to her that the silence between them and the aimless driving may be more her fault than his. When Jim had asked her where to take her, she’d said “Just drive,” and that was exactly what he was doing. Sure, he’d been upset that she’d made him a co-conspirator, but he must know that was unintentional.

  Okay, making him a co-conspirator was intentional. She said she would find Brandon on her own, and, although she would if she had to, she knew she’d be better off with Jim at her side. But she certainly hadn’t planned on letting the police know he was a co-conspirator—that was unintentional. Anyway, he wasn’t taking her to jail, so maybe he wasn’t as upset as she’d thought he was. Maybe what she told him about the diary outside of Kroger had been enough for him to realize her course of action was the only chance she had of getting her son back. Perhaps just giving him a destination would break the tension.

  “I know I haven’t told you where we’re headed,” she said. “But, I think I know where we should start looking...” Then she trailed off, waiting to see if he would ask where she wanted to go. If he did, it would mean she was right about the tension only being in her head.

  He didn’t. Eyes on the road, his only response was a subtle frown. She could almost hear him saying to himself: That’s just great. Maybe you should use that information to point the police in the right direction and clear both of our names.

  Okay, so maybe what she’d told him at Kroger wasn’t enough to entirely subdue his fury about his new status as a criminal. But, even if that thought had crossed his mind, the aimless driving assured her that he did understand the police wouldn’t actually help. He simply needed more time to cool off.

  The houses turned back into strip malls and the strip malls turned back into houses as two lanes became four and then again two. As they drove, Sarah’s mind drifted back to those moments just before Brandon was abducted. She was already certain Brandon’s kidnapper was inhuman. Likewise, she no longer considered that her déjà vu might have been a moment of madness. In fact, she could feel there was some sort of truth she’d understand about the kidnapper if only she could figure out its origin.

  What was it he called himself? She’d remembered earlier in the bathroom, but couldn’t quite think of it now. It probably didn’t matter. Even if the kidnapper was ordinary flesh and blood, the name wouldn’t get her any closer to finding him. It was probably a fake name.

  “He knew who I was,” Sarah mumbled to herself, not realizing she’d said the words aloud. Some fifteen minutes had passed since she’d last tried to engage Jim. She wasn’t ready to try again.

  Nonetheless, he answered. “Excuse me?”

  She glanced over and saw the blood had receded from his face. To her relief, he looked disappointed, but no longer angry.

  “I didn’t get a chance to tell Detective Hammond about it, but just before the kidnapper broke in, he called me by my name.”

  “Maybe that’s good.”

  “How could that be good?”

  “Well, since he called you by name, you know for sure it wasn’t random. That would give the police a better chance of finding him.”

  “I told you I’m not going to the police. Can we just drop it, already?”

  “Well, why not? Even if they do want to spend a little time questioning you, they’ve got a better chance of finding him than you do. I guess I can sit in a holding room for a while until they sort things out.”

  Sarah decided she would have to share everything she knew with him if she wanted him to help. “There’s more I need to tell you about the kidnapping.”

  “Like?”

  “I haven’t told this to anyone yet. Not even the police.”

  “Jesus, Sarah, of course the police aren’t going to be on your side if you’re keeping things from them!”

  “Just hear me out. If I could have told them about this, I would have.”

  “All right. What is it?”

  “Remember when I asked you back at the house not to think I’m crazy?”

  “And I didn’t.”

  “That’s because I didn’t tell you what I’m about to tell you now. I chickened out.”

  “I said I won’t think you’re crazy, now spill it. And it better be good, because I can’t think of a single good reason why you’d want to keep anything from the police, especially after you’ve been blamed for Brandon’s disappearance.”

  “Okay,” she said. Then, before she could talk herself out of it again, she plunged into her story about the light that seemed to pour out of the man, from underneath his fingernails and behind his eyes and through his pores, about how Trevor—Trevor, yes, that was what he had called himself—had thrown her the length of her hall like she weighed nothing—nothing!—how he seemed to vanish into the night in mere seconds.

  She talked fast, hardly slowing down to breath. On a conscious level, she didn’t think anything about the name when she remembered it. She was too wrapped up in the things she had to say and in gauging Jim’s reactions by his facial expressions. But in the deep, dark waters of her subconscious, she had to admit that she was glad the name had come back to her. Even though it wouldn’t help her find her son, it gave her something concrete to focus on, a way of defining the thing that had him other than “that man” or “it.” She wouldn’t forget his name again.

  “I don’t think you’re crazy,” Jim said when she finished.

  “Really?”

  “You’re just stressed out. You should be.”

  “Don’t patronize me. I know what I saw. Something strange is going on here.” Then she remembered something
else: “What about the static on the radio when you were driving me home? That wasn’t ordinary static. And the headlights flickering? What about that? I know you felt something.”

  Jim’s whole body tensed up. He had felt it. She had only been guessing when she said as much, but she was right. Maybe Jim just needed a little push to accept the idea that this kidnapping was more than just unfortunate.

  “You did feel it,” she said.

  “Okay, I felt something, but so what? It could have been—”

  “What? What could it have been?”

  “Anything! The lights dimmed. There was static on the radio. That’s meaningless. It probably just means I need my damn car serviced.”

  “But you felt something, too, just like I did.”

  “I was on edge. We both were.”

  “It’s not that!” she said, raising her voice, but not quite shouting. Once she recomposed herself, she added, “I know you think everything can be explained, and this can to. It just means expanding your definition of reality.”

  “If—”

  “Regardless of what you believe, I guess you’ve got two choices. I’m not going back to the police. I’ll run this car off the road if that’s what it takes to stop you from going back to the police. So you can either let me off here and I’ll find Brandon myself or you can help me, which would sure make things easier.”

  It was a bold ultimatum, but he’d lied to Hammond when he came to pick her up, he’d run with her through the guts of the supermarket, and he hadn’t yet driven her to the police station, which he could have done while fuming. She was betting he would take her side.

  “I know what happened,” Sarah said. “And even if you’re right—that it’s just an ordinary kidnapping—then it’s like I said before: the police will spend so much time focused on me that Brandon will be dead before they find him.”

  Jim seemed to consider this. As he did, he turned out of another neighborhood and onto Peachtree Street. “Fine. I’ll help you. I got to admit that you’re at least right about one thing: I think as long as the police have you in their sights, they’re not going to be looking for the real kidnapper, and that could spell trouble for Brandon.”

  “Thank you.” She knew that wasn’t his only reason. If that had been enough, they wouldn’t have needed to have this discussion. That strange, shared experience in the car had gotten to him and, at least a little, had redefined his definition of what was included in the word “reality.”

  As if to verify Sarah’s assumption, he said, “But, if we were actually going to say we’re looking for something supernatural, how would we figure out what we were looking for?”

  “I don’t know. But whatever it is, we need to stop thinking of its motive in human terms.”

  “If he wasn’t human.”

  “Right,” she said. No need to push the idea on him faster than he was ready to accept it.

  “And how would we find something like that?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “And how would we beat something like that?”

  “Jim, I don’t know! But the police sure as shit aren’t going to.”

  They were passing in front of the Lennox Mall now, and Jim abruptly turned the car into its deserted parking lot. He did a U-turn, came back out on the main road, and started heading in the opposite direction.

  “Where are we going?” Sarah asked.

  “We’re going to throw the police off track to buy us some time.”

  She didn’t ask any more questions. Whatever his plan was, that sounded good to her.

  He navigated from surface streets to the Georgia 400 Highway. Two exits outside of I-285, and well out of the hot zone, he exited onto Northridge Drive, then pulled into a gas station at the corner of Roswell Road.

  Across the street from the Chevron were a couple of yuppie restaurants and a Dunkin’ Doughnuts. Jim got out of the car and went inside. When he returned, he handed her a bottle of water and a couple of Snickers bars. “It’s not exactly the healthiest snack, but at least it’s something to eat. We’ll get a real meal later.”

  Sarah smiled. The expression felt strange on her face. She was sure she must have smiled recently, many times earlier that day, even. But all her memories before the abduction seemed gray and filled with heartbreak now, and she couldn’t find the humor in any of them.

  “Thank you.” She took several big gulps from the bottle. The water immediately soothed her aching throat. “But how is this going to throw the police off track?”

  “I got five hundred dollars out of the ATM inside,” he said. “That’s all my bank will let me take out per day, which is all right, I guess, since there’s not much more in there. Anyway, it will give us some spending money while we look for Brandon and if they try to follow any sort of paper trail, they’ll see we headed north. Maybe they’ll think we left the city.”

  Sarah was surprised. Although Jim was often mousy in his daily interactions, he was apparently one of those rare individuals who found strength under pressure.

  “So, what do we do now?” she asked.

  “This is your show.”

  “Our show.”

  “Okay, but it’s your son. What do you want to do?”

  “I want to talk to Megan. Detective Hammond might have been onto something when he asked about my babysitter. Maybe if I describe the guy who took Brandon, she’ll remember something helpful.”

  Jim unscrewed the cap from his water bottle. “Sounds like a good idea to me.” He took a sip, pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, and handed it to Sarah. “I think you should call her.”

  Staring down at the phone, Sarah asked, “This thing’s been on the whole time?”

  “Yeah. Why?”

  “Jim, cell phones are traceable. We gotta turn it off, get rid of it.”

  “They’re not going to trace my cell phone. Don’t they need a warrant for something like that?”

  “I don’t know, but do you want to find out what happens if you’re wrong?”

  “All right, we’ll turn it off after you call Megan. Let’s not waste time looking for a payphone. A couple extra minutes won’t make any difference. Besides, if they trace it this far, they’ll just be that much more likely to think we’ve left the city.”

  Sarah considered his proposal and decided it was the best idea. With trembling fingers, she dialed the number. After several rings, the call went to voicemail. A chirpy teenage girl said, “Hi, it’s Megan. I can’t pick up right now because I’m out doing something more fun than talking to you. Just kidding. Really, though, leave a message and I’ll call you back.”

  She didn’t. “No answer,” she told Jim after ending the call.

  “She’s probably asleep.”

  Sarah tried again, hoping a second call would wake her up. After another three rings and a “Hi, it’s Megan,” she hung up.

  Disappointed, she stared out the windshield at the convenience store and asked in little more than a whisper: “What are we going to do?”

  There were two reasons she’d thought Hammond had been onto something with Megan. The first was Brandon spent more time with Megan than anyone besides herself and his teachers. The second was what he told her when she asked about the “God is Blind” killers: Whether they were responsible or not, the best chance of finding her son was to work with the clues they had. Even though Sarah had told Jim she didn’t know how to go about finding Brandon if he’d been abducted by something supernatural, she felt the same principal applied. However, if Megan wasn’t going to answer her phone, really and truly, what were they going to do?

  “Let’s go by her house. I know it’s late, but they’ll understand,” Jim said.

  Sarah shook her head. “We can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t know her address, not exactly. I mean—it’s in my phone, but a lot of good that does us. I know she lives nearby. She always walked... That doesn’t really help, either.”

  After another moment, she
said hopefully, “We could look it up. Do you have Internet on your phone?”

  “Of course.” He opened a webpage for her.

  Eyes glassy, she navigated through several sites, searching by name and phone number. Nothing. Megan’s family was unlisted. “She’s not here,” Sarah said several times, each repetition sounding more frantic than the one before.

  “We’ll find her at the school tomorrow,” Jim said.

  “Tomorrow? But—”

  “It’ll be okay. We’ll find her and we’ll find him.”

  Biting her lower lip and resisting the urge to cry, Sarah nodded.

  Jim eased the phone out of her hands. After he turned it off and removed the battery, he said, “In the meantime, may I make a suggestion? Let’s get a room somewhere where they take cash and don’t ask too many questions. With me on the wanted list now, too, I can’t very well take you back to my place.

  “While you clean up, I’ll go buy you some clothes from one of those twenty-four-hour mega stores.”

  “Sure.” She nodded, rewiring her mind for this new plan. That made sense, didn’t it? It was action. It was something, and it was better than sitting here staring at an empty convenience store. “But where are we going to find a place like that?”

  “I know one,” he said as he started the car and headed back in the direction they came.

  Chapter 13

  THE CLOCK READ TWO-THIRTEEN AM. Jim Rossin drove them back into the city towards downtown, keeping his speed just above the limit—neither fast or slow enough to draw attention. Sarah wanted him to go faster, but, more than ever, they needed to blend in. They were the students in the back of the class with their heads down, praying not to get called on.

  As they traversed the city, Jim explained how he knew about the cash-only hotel—and Sarah was happy to have the distraction. “Before I worked at St. Ives, I did a short stint at McAllen Elementary,” he began. McAllen was an underfunded inner-city school on the decline. It was the kind of school that had metal detectors at the doors and they weren’t just for show. “I thought I could make a difference. I was just out of college and wanted to make the world a better place. But I wasn’t there a year before a kid pulled a gun on me. A fifth-grader with a gun... It scared the shit out of me.”